Homer: Well, it's been two long trips, but we're finally almost there again.
Marge: When you locked the front door, did you remember to lock the back door?
Homer: D'oh! D'oh!
Lisa: Oh no! We left Grampa back at the gas station!
(Homer stares determinedly ahead, appearing not to notice her)
Lisa: What about Grampa?
:Mr. Burns: (after an elevator empties out a huge amount of blood) Hmmmm... that's odd. Usually the blood gets off on the second floor.
:Burns: Yes, by cutting off cable TV and the beer supply, I can ensure an honest winter's work out of those low-lifes.
Smithers: Sir, did you ever stop to think that maybe it was doing this that caused the previous caretakers to go insane and murder their families?
Burns: Hmm... perhaps. Tell you what: we come back and everyone's slaughtered, I owe you a Coke.
:Homer: (enters the room) Hello!
Homer: What do you think, Marge? All I need is a title. I was thinking along the lines of "No TV and no beer make Homer... something something..."
Marge: (worried) ...Go crazy?
Homer: Don’t mind if I do! (Goes on a mad rant)
(Marge breaks open a case labelled "Break glass in case of spousal insanity" and grabs the baseball bat within)
Marge: Stay away from me, Homer!
Homer: (chasing Marge up some stairs) Give me the bat, Marge. Gimme the bat. Come on. Gimme the bat. Gimme the bat! (makes scary face) Ha ha ha! Scaredy cat! Bleaahhh... (Makes another scary face, then sees himself in a mirror) AAAAAHH! (falls down stairs, knocking himself out)
(Marge leaves unconscious Homer locked in a pantry)
Marge: You stay here until you're no longer insane. Hmm, chili would be good tonight.
:Homer: Can't murder now. Eating.
:Homer: (Homer chops into a room) Heeeere's Johnny!
(camera pulls back to reveal empty room)
(chops into another room)
Homer: Daaaaavid Letterman!
Grampa: Hi David, I'm Grampa.
(chops down another door)
Homer: (holding a ticking stopwatch) I'm Mike Wallace, I'm Morley Safer, and I'm Ed Bradley! All this and Andy Rooney tonight on "60 Minutes"!
:Marge: Homer? Homie? Hmm. What he's typed will be a window into his madness. (Reads from the typewriter) "Feelin' fine." Well, that's a relief.
(suddenly "No TV and no beer make Homer go crazy" lines written all over the walls appears)
Marge: (Terrified) Oooooooooh! (looks around) This is less encouraging...
Willy: Shh! You want to get sued? Now look, boy: if your Da goes gaga, you just use that... "Shin" of yours to call me and I'll come a running. But don't be reading my mind between four and five. That's Willy's time!
:(Lisa trips while being chased by an axe-wielding Homer, spots a handheld TV)
Lisa: Dad, look! (holds it up)
Homer: Television! Teacher, mother, (sexually) secret lover. Urge to kill... fading... fading... fading... rising! Fading, fading... gone. (family sighs in relief) Come, family. Sit in the snow with Daddy and let us all bask in television's warm glowing warming glow.
Homer: Can't! Frozen! ("One" from "A Chorus Line" plays) Urge to kill...rising...
:Skinner(To Bart): I'm going to enjoy devouring you, Bart Simpson. Yes... I believe I'll start as you've so often suggested by eating your shorts...
:Jimbo: It's hard to scrub this giant pot from the inside when you keep spilling meat tenderizer all over me.
(The pot lid is closed on Jimbo)
Jimbo: Oh, great. Now I gotta work in the dark.
:Lisa: Bart, isn't it strange that Uter is missing and suddenly, the cafeteria is serving this mysterious food called "Uter-braten"?
Principal Skinner: Oh, relax kids. I've got a gut feeling Uter's around here somewhere. (starts to laugh) After all, isn't there a little Uter in all of us? (laughs harder) In fact, you might say we just ate Uter and he's in our stomachs right now! (laughs, then realizes his faux pas) Wait. Scratch that one.
:(The kids are getting served "Sloppy Jimbos")
Bart: Hmm, I wonder where Jimbo is today? He should have beaten usup for our lunch money an hour ago.
Uter: [cutting in line] Oh, lunch lady? Please to have another sloppy Jimbo? [to Bart] Das ist gut, nein? [chomps]
Skinner: Now that's your third helping, young man, making you fat and soft...[licks lips] and tender. Er, you just cut in line, didn't you? Report to detention, Uter.
Uter: For how long?
Skinner: [quietly] Oh, about seven minutes a pound should do it.